


Veritaserum

by KateKintail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape is ill; Hermione is nursing him. Snape confesses he loves her while delirious, but Hermione thinks he's talking about Lily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritaserum

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters. I am only playing with them/torturing them.
> 
> Written for RUNNING HOT: A Multi-Fandom Fever Fic Comment fic meme  
> Prompt: Harry Potter, Snape/Hermione
> 
> Notes: This is my first ever Snape/Hermione. Thank you so much to perfectly_n0rml for the beta!

Even though it had been eight months last week, Hermione could still remember the day she was hired to work at Severus Snape’s apothecary. He’d made her sit through a rigorous interview which consisted of a barrage of questions followed by practical demonstration of identifying potions ingredients and then creating specific concoctions upon demand. Though she botched the Pepper-Up and failed entirely at the Veritaserum, she was successful enough with the rest to earn not only an approving nod from her former professor but also the job.

After her break-up with Ron, she had craved change. And after trying a few other options, she had realized she needed a break from the pressure and hectic pace at the Ministry of Magic. True, she still lunched with her two best friends once a week, but it was nice to have something she could be independent about. She had been surprised to find out what Snape was up to after the war and even more surprised to find herself drawn again and again to his advertisement for help in his shop that appeared in the  _Daily Prophet._ Working as an assistant should have been beneath her. Her skill set and brain power could have been utilized in a variety of other ways. But after a few days on the job, she realized she actually really enjoyed working there.

There was a level of professionalism in place she realized—among other things—had been lacking in her life. She liked working at a place that opened promptly at the same hour every morning and closed precisely at the same hour every evening. She enjoyed being around the potions ingredients as well, taking pride in keeping the containers of ingredients polished to shine as well as full of whatever they were meant to contain. She liked doing something that wasn’t about making life and death decisions every minute of the day. Dealing with customers was a pleasant change, providing enough idle conversation to be friendly while still providing service and making a sale. She’d seen the books; sales were up since she’d started there, and that could only have been a benefit to her employer.

 She had thought, at first, that working for her former professor would be awkward. The man had never much liked her as a student and had seemed to specifically resent her and her friends. One she had found out about his past, she—along with everyone else in the wizarding world—had pitied him. And Severus Snape was not one to suffer pity with a smile. There had been no reason to stay on at Hogwarts after the battle, and he had cleared out almost immediately afterward. Given his preference for Defense Against the Dark Arts over Potions, she would have thought he’d go to work as an Auror, but running an apothecary shop seemed to suit him as much as it suited her to work there.

It was five minutes to nine in the morning, five minutes until the shop’s OPEN sign magically flipped over, yet Severus Snape was nowhere in sight. In all her time working there, she had never known him to be late. On her second day of the job, she had been a few minutes late in her return to the office after lunch at the Ministry. Snape had given her a lecture, just like the ones she’d had from him back at Hogwarts. But from her mistake she had learned how long it took to travel to and from and wasn’t late again.

As the seconds ticked away, Hermione became increasingly nervous. This wasn’t like Snape at all. She supposed she should investigate. She could send an owl, but Snape’s delivery owl was still off on a long distance delivery and leaving the shop to get one from the post office would take longer than five minutes. She could send a patronus, but she wasn’t sure what the message her little otter would say to Snape’s cold stare. Or she could just march upstairs to Snape’s above-the-shop flat, but he had never so much as invited her there for tea and she wasn’t sure she was at all welcome.

At one minute until nine, she heard footsteps on the back staircase and relief filled her. As he arrived, the sign switched from CLOSED to OPEN and the dim lights flared up to store brightness. It was then that Hermione actually got a look at Snape, and she gasped involuntarily.

Severus Snape looked absolutely awful. He was usually pale but he was even paler than usual, apart from cheeks with a definite flush and a redness at his nose. His eyes were bloodshot and had bags beneath. His hair was untidy and his robes were more wrinkled than not. “You look terrible. How are you feeling, Sir?”

For the first week at least, Hermione had had trouble addressing Snape. She called him by his surname half the time and the other half of the time she called him “Professor.” It had taken some time, but she finally managed to train herself to use “Sir.”

Snape took out a paisley handkerchief and rubbed it at his large nose. Then he turned and snapped in half with a sneeze. Not only did he look unwell, he sounded it too. “I  _sniff_  I don’t feel so well this morning.”

To say the least. He looked like he was going to keel over and die at any moment. Hermione began running through the various options. They could close the store for the day. She could insist Snape go upstairs to rest, at least for the morning and then reevaluate in the afternoon. She could owl a healer to come look over him. She could… Snape was smiling at her.

The smile was soft, and the way Snape was looking at her made it look as though he was seeing inside her. “What?” she asked, self conscious and flushing.

“I was merely complementing myself on hiring such a competent assistant. I am glad I have you to mah-manage the place.” He turned again and sneezed heartily into the handkerchief.

 “Perhaps you should go back upstairs?”

He rubbed at his nose and snuffled with a nod. “As soon as I finish the Clements order.”

Hermione groaned inwardly. She had forgotten the twelve potions Clements had ordered for pickup today, only nine of which were commonly brewed and prepared. Snape had been planning to bottle the other three this morning. “Would you like my help with that?”

Shaking his head, “It will go faster if I do it alone. Just watch the store while I work.”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Not being able to help stung slightly; she loved helping Snape brew potions. There was a corner station set up where they did the in-house brewing. It was large enough for several cauldrons and a large workbench, but not large enough for two people to work together without bumping into each other. Okay, so it was a little silly to like to feel close like that to someone, even her employer, but there was something romantic about creating things side-by-side, reaching around each other, giving each other input. It was like a beautiful dance. A beautiful potion-making dance.

Snape cleared his throat and headed over to the corner just as the first customer of the day walked in. She turned her attention toward the customer, though repeatedly glanced over to check on Snape. It seemed the man was good at keeping his illness hidden. He still looked unwell, but didn’t sound it if there happened to be someone in the store. Coughs were suppressed, sneezes were stifled, even sniffles were muffled by crook of arm or shoulder. She wondered why he didn’t just use a  _Muffliato_  spell and be done with it, and the fact that he didn’t take his wand out once worried her more than perhaps anything else.

Traffic in the store was so heavy mid-morning that Hermione nearly missed Snape leaving. She had four people in line and just happened to look up as Snape set the boxed-up potions on the shelf for pick-up. He caught her eye, across the sea of customers.

She flicked her hand, gesturing to let him know he should head upstairs. He nodded back, coughing into a fist and practically throwing himself down the hallway without a glance back.

Clements came to pick up his order not half an hour later.

*

 

As there was no one to look after the shop at lunchtime, Hermione closed it while she went out in search of food. She found a sandwich that appealed to her at the café around the corner and sat in a window seat with a cup of tea and a book as she ate; she knew better than to eat while on the job. Even simple cooking ingredients could ruin a potion if accidentally mixed through casual contact. A crumb might even be enough to make Snape snap, and Hermione definitely didn’t want to do anything that would make him think less of her. She still didn’t quite understand why he’d hired her in the first place, considering their history.

Thinking about Snape gave her an idea. After successfully tossing her balled-up napkin into the nearest bin, she got back in line at the café. She ordered a thermos full of herbal tea and a take-away bowl of the soup of the day. She even paid a little bit extra for them to put spells on the containers to keep them at the perfect temperatures.

Snape had said to go up to his place if she needed him. And, well, she needed him to have some lunch. So, hesitantly, she started up the back stairs. They were uneven and windy and ended at a closed wooden door. Not knowing what else to do, she knocked.

The door did not open.

She knocked again. Then she pressed her ear to the door, wishing she had an extendable ear.

The door did not open and she did not hear anything.

She gave one more attempt at knocking and listening.

This time, she heard a faint moan and decided that was as much acknowledgement as she was likely to get. She tried the door and found it unlocked, which didn’t seem like something Snape would do. Once she walked in, she walked right into a side table. She bit back a cry of surprise and navigated around it as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark as the pain in her leg backed off. Did Snape always keep his place so dark? Did he miss having a room down in the Hogwarts dungeons? “Hello?” she called, unsure of what to do now that she was inside.

Another moan came, and it sounded as if it were coming from the open doorway on her left. So she headed in and found herself in a parlor. There were a few lit candles in holders around the room. And she could plainly see, sprawled out on his stomach on the couch, her employer. Snape looked even worse now. He seemed to shake a little with cold and he sniffed constantly. “What  _sniff_  are  _sniff_  you doing  _sniff_ here?”

Hermione approached tentatively. “I brought you some tea and soup for lunch. I thought they might make you feel better.”

There was no response and no movement apart from his nostrils flaring with each sniffle and the shaking of his body from chills. He looked weak and pathetic and Hermione couldn’t stand to see him looking so miserable. She raised her wand. “ _Accio_  blanket!” It took a moment, but a comforter came shooting down the hallway and nearly knocked her over as it crashed into her. She untangled it and draped it over him. The thing was gray but thick and fluffy, so fluffy that it eclipsed Snape on the sofa and so thick that it didn’t require tucking around him. It only took a few moments for the shaking to stop, and then Snape opened his eyes and looked at her.

She looked back. “Can I get you anything, Sir?”

Snape grimaced and closed his eyes again. It was a full minute full of uncertainty before he whispered, “handkerchief… and honey?”

Hermione used a nonverbal  _Lumos_  in order to navigate his flat. Even though his eyes were closed, he shrunk back from the light, as if it hurt him. She found handkerchiefs in his bedroom chest of drawers and honey in a cabinet over the stove. By the time she got back to the parlor, Snape was fast asleep and snoring loudly. The snore was so comically loud that she would have laughed if she hadn’t been worried about waking him.

She set the requested items on the coffee table, beside the tea and soup she’d brought. Then she noticed an empty goblet on the floor beneath the table. She picked it up and sniffed it. Pepper-Up. Not surprising, though it didn’t seem to have worked. Snape must have a flu bug or some other Pepper-Up resistant virus.

Using her wand, she levitated the several balled-up hankies at the foot of the couch to the wash tub in the bathroom. When she went to wash the goblet in the sink, she found a small stack of dishes on the counter and washed those as well. Meanwhile, she spelled a sponge to wipe down all the countertops.

Finally finding herself without any other reason to stay, she quietly headed for the door. She paused in the doorway to the parlor to make sure Snape was still asleep, which he was. She smiled, glad he was able to get some rest, then turned to leave.  
  
“Don’t leave me.”

Her heart pounded and goosebumps raced across the backs of her arms. “Sir?” She whirled around and was met with the sight of a still-sleeping Snape. He even snored again.

She gave it another moment before heading for the door.

*

 

The shop was quiet for most of the afternoon. A wizard came in looking for three cases of aged shrivel figs; Hermione didn’t like to guess what he intended to use those for. A pair of witches came in looking for love potions, and she was glad Snape wasn’t around to yell them out the door. And her favorite old crazy wizard, Mr. Kavenpaw, came in to buy more than a hundred galleons’ worth of potions—everything from wart removers to anti-aging potions.

When the sign flipped at exactly five o’clock, it took all of Hermione’s self-restraint to not dart upstairs directly to check on Snape. Instead, she dealt with the till and balanced the days’ books with the inventory. The problem with an Apothecary was that you had some customers who only wanted ingredients while others wanted finished potions. So your stocks of ingredients were both sold and used to create other things, and the sale of those creations had to offset the ingredients as well as the time required to prepare the potion, the cost of the bottle, and the perceived usefulness of the potion. Considering all the factors, Hermione had been impressed that Snape’s records were so well maintained; not many wizards or witches were as good at logic, math, and economics. They shared the bookkeeping now, in order to double-check the accuracy of records, but this day’s records would have to wait until Snape was well.

Hermione set down her quill and closed the book with a satisfying sound. She thought briefly about dinner and decided she could always order in if she got hungry. So she went back up to Snape’s flat to check on him before heading home.

This time when she knocked on the door she didn’t hear a sound. She entered and found the place even darker now that the winter sun was setting outside and even less light was making it through the curtains of the few windows. Once again, she ran into the table and suppressed her surprise. With her wand lighting the way, she headed straight for the parlor.

Snape was right where she had left him, though in a slightly different state. The honey was open, lidless on the table beside the opened thermos of tea. Several more hankies littered the floor and Snape’s nose looked red now from the attention. The soup looked like it had been opened but not eaten. And the gray comforter had been thrown off the couch entirely. Snape lay on his back, pale and shirtless, breathing shallow, raspy breaths.

He didn’t look awake but he didn’t look asleep either. He just seemed to be floating in-between. “Sir?” Hermione stepped closer. “How are you feeling?”

She got no answer. No moan. No snarky comment. Nothing at all except for the sound of breathing. She stepped forward, making sure she was within his sight. “Can I get you anything?”

He stirred, restless, body shifting. His eyes went right past her, unfocused and unaware. He turned his head to the side, then the other side, staring into the couch before looking back up toward the ceiling. Hair fell in his face now, against his nose and mouth. Fearing it might make him sneeze, Hermione reached down and pushed the strands of black aside. She was astonished to find his skin so warm to the touch.

“ _Temperatus!_ ” She touched her wand to his temple. A little bubble reading “38°C” floated out of the tip of her wand, then vanished in wisps like smoke. Hermione sat down on the floor at once. A fever that high wasn’t good, and there was no telling when it might go down or if it would just go higher. She couldn’t administer a fever potion now if he wasn’t alert enough to swallow it, let alone keep it down; some of the medicinal potions could be tough on your stomach. And it didn’t look like Snape had had much to eat all day, if anything. Hermione didn’t have time to chastise herself for not forcing Snape to eat a bit of soup earlier.

Instead, she headed straight to the bathroom. She found an ice bag and filled it with cool tap water. She performed a freezing charm and took the bag back to Snape. She placed it carefully against his head. He shivered violently at the touch, then settled down and allowed it to remain. By extension, she supposed, he was allowing her to remain. But, even if he hadn’t, Hermione had no intention of going anywhere.

She sat back down on the floor by the couch and leaned against it, looking up at him. She brought her legs up, bending them at the knees, and hugged them to her chest. She could contact someone if he got worse—she could owl St. Mungos or use Floo to connect to Madam Pomfrey, her old school nurse. Neville might even have an idea of what to do; he was dabbling as a healer during the summers away from teaching Herbology at Hogwarts.

Suddenly, the back of a hand touched her cheek. She raised her head to find his hand against her face. Instinctively, she nestled her face against it, allowing it to reassure her.

This was strange, and she knew it. Snape would never allow it, were he in his right mind. Going to work in the Apothecary had been a lovely change, just when she’d needed one. But beyond enjoying the work, she actually realized she enjoyed being around Snape. She liked watching him work, liked working with him, liked that he got right down to business with no annoying small talk. She liked when he asked for her advice on a matter—which he often did lately—and when there was silence in the shop it never felt awkward or strained. She just liked  _being_   _with_  him.

She supposed that was why an hour passed without her realizing it. And then two hours. She was well into her third hour there when Snape’s fever began to spike. The spell said it was 39.3°C. Apparently the bag of ice and the freezing spells she’d been doing periodically to keep it cold were not enough. Hermione got a basin of cool water and a dishtowel from the kitchen and set to work pressing the cloth against Snape’s neck, cheeks, side, chest.

Despite her ministrations, he began to thrash about. He didn’t try to push her away, only tried to get up. But he was rambling nonsense words and phrases and Hermione found herself sitting beside where he lay on the couch in order to hold him down, hold him still.

“Werewolf…” Snape mumbled, head whipping from side to side. “Snitch… sandcastle. Don’t want her to go.”

Hermione tried to quiet him, tried to calm him, but she didn’t seem to have much success. “Sir… you’re all right,” she assured him, but he didn’t seem to hear. “It’s just a fever. It’ll pass soon enough.”

But it did not. In fact, it got worse. His pushed against her, trying to get up, flailing his limbs. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to hurt himself, catch his head against the corner of the end table or put his hand through the glass surface of the coffee table. “Snape!” Being louder, more forceful to get his attention didn’t work either.

“It hurts, Mommy. Hurts… so much…”

Mommy, huh? That’s who he thought she was? Hermione flashed at once to the image of Harry’s sixth year potions book, a book Snape had treasured, a name Snape had treasured. Surely his mother didn’t call him “Snape” or “Sir.” Hermione stroked his cheek softly with the back of her hand. “I’m here, Severus. It’s all right.” Her whole body tingled with delight at the words and, more importantly, Snape calmed down almost instantly, just like magic.

Snape relaxed a little. He still looked agitated, worried, but he no longer struggled to get up or fight against her restraint. In fact, when she released her hold of him, he settled against the couch cushions almost peacefully. He looked up at her with fever-dazed eyes, clearly seeing his mother instead of her. “I wanted to tell her… but I missed my chance.” He turned his head, burying his face in one of the back cushions. “I think I love her…. Her…  _Sniff_.”

Hermione’s heart sunk. She knew, of course, who he was talking about: Lily. It had been so many years, but he still loved Lily, still carried her in his heart. She admired him for that. It was tragic but sweet. “I know,” she whispered. He started to stir, to try to sit up. “I know, Severus. It’s all right now.” He settled back down again; she got the message loud and clear. “Try to sleep, Severus.”

Snape closed his eyes obediently at the sound of his name, but he didn’t fall to sleep. Instead, he continued to lie there, mumbling, muttering. “Doesn’t know… can’t tell her… missed my one chance… she’s my…”

Hermione pressed the cool compress to Snape’s burning forehead. “I’m sure she knows you care, Severus. She’s smart enough to know.”

At this, he actually gave a dreamy sort of smile. “She’s smart, so smart and clever. Cleverest girl in class. One thing I love about her… my own… my…”

“Well I’m sure she’s figured it out by now, even if she can’t say it back.”

“Can’t… she’s dating someone else. It’s all wrong. He doesn’t understand her.”

Hermione smirked at this. From what Harry had told her, it had taken his father six years to finally get Lily to go on a date with him, taken him six years to go from oblivious and obnoxious to dating; Hermione could most certainly relate to that. She loved Ron dearly and would always consider him a best friend. But he didn’t give her what she craved most and she hadn’t realized until recently that she’d needed it. “Don’t worry yourself about it. You will find someone else.”

Shaking his head, “Never.” He whimpered. “I love her. So much. So much it hurt sometimes. Hurts…”

She wiped his brow, her heart breaking for several reasons. Her voice caught as she tried to reassure him and keep her own emotions in check. She was glad he wouldn’t remember a bit of this when he woke. “Rest, Severus. Get some sleep and it won’t hurt so much.”

“I love her,” Snape insisted, letting himself drift off with one final declaration, “Love Hermione.”

And then he was asleep, right when Hermione wanted him to be awake. She fought hard against her instincts, which told her to shake him awake and demand an answer. But he was out of his mind, in no condition to tell her anything specific when asked, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to speak in any case.

Her name. He has said her name. He had said he  _loved_  her. How was it even possible? This was Severus Snape. Snape loved Lily; they all knew that. That was the whole reason he had turned spy against Voldemort. It was the whole reason the war was won. This didn’t make sense. And, yet, she wanted it to be true more than anything else in the world. Because if it were possible that Snape could somehow love her, she might finally admit to herself that she’d been interested in him too.

*

 

Hermione didn’t notice her hunger until she woke the next morning. She had slept on the floor by the couch when she’d been able to, but most of the night had been spent trying to cool Snape down or keep him calm. But now her stomach twisted and deep pains wound their way through. Hermione had decided stay and raid his fridge or pantry only if his situation hadn’t changed. But this morning he was fast asleep and calm enough. Even as she stroked his arm, he smiled in his sleep.

When she checked his temperature, she found it just above normal. He was wet with sweat, beads of perspiration on his forehead, his skin damp to the touch. She used a drying spell to make him more comfortable, and then she pulled the comforter back up over him. He rolled onto his side and snuggled up in it.

Not wanting to go through his possessions, it took her some time to locate a bit of parchment and quill. She wrote him a quick note, telling him that he should probably take a day or two to recover. She could—and would—man the store in his absence. She also mentioned that if he wanted her to deliver some food, to just send an owl and tell her what he wanted. She hated to leave his side while he was still feeling ill, but she knew he’d probably want her looking after the shop and keeping them in business.

Before she left, however, she pressed a kiss to his now cool forehead. “Feel better, Severus.”

It was early in the morning, the sun still just a faint glow, as she headed out of Snape’s flat. She couldn’t help but laugh a little on her way down to the bakery. She’d been growing closer to Snape for so long, she hadn’t stopped to think that he might feel something back. And whatever happened, she had to admit that last night was not how she had imagined spending the night with Snape for the first time.

*

 

Hermione was halfway through the inventory checklist the next morning when she heard footsteps on the back staircase. She wasn’t the least bit surprised by the flood of relief that washed through her at the sound, but she tried not to smile as brightly as she wanted to. Snape strode into the room and gave her a curt nod. “Good morning. Thank you for opening the store in my absence, Ms. Granger.”

“Not a problem,” she replied.

Snape turned and pressed a fist to his mouth, coughing just a little. It sounded good; whatever he’d had was backing off, not spreading or settling in his lungs.

She made a note on the parchment to remind herself on what line she had stopped. Then she focused all her attention on him. “You’re sounding much better now. How are you feeling, Severus?”

As soon as his name slipped from her mouth, she knew she was in trouble. Had it been anyone else—Ron, for example—it might have gone unnoticed. But she knew Snape had noticed, just as she had noticed. And, sure enough, he turned his head, eyes fixed coldly upon her. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, before he could say anything. “I didn’t mean to…” But she cut herself off.

With a thoughtful expression, she jumped down from her stool behind the counter. She waved her hand, flipping the store sign from “OPEN” to “CLOSED.” Then she headed over to him. “You know what? I didn’t mean to be so informal and call you by your first name, but I’m not sorry in the least. I’m sick and tired of people keeping secrets and not telling each other what’s important to know. Remus should have told about Peter, James, and Sirius becoming animagi. Winky should have told about the Crouches. You should have told about the promise you made to Dumbledore. And Dumbledore… he should have told Harry everything from the start.”

“It’s not that simple,” Snape whispered. He was following her train of thought, though. He was engaged, drawn in. Whether he agreed or not, she didn’t care.

“Nothing as difficult as truth is ever simple, that's why veritaserum is one of the hardest potions to make and impossible to administer in large doses. Saying what you really feel is tough, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be said.” She stopped in front of him, looking up into his face. He still looked a bit tired, but otherwise all right. His face had a little color back in it, even. He could take it, she wagered. “It’s been over between Ron and me for a year now. We’re still friends, but that’s all. And for months I’ve rather fancied another bloke: you. As I am your employee, I didn’t think you’d approve, so I kept it secret. But if that’s the only thing that stands between us, I’ll submit my notice forthwith.” She cocked her head slightly. “What do you have to say to that? And, so help me, if it’s not the truth, I’ll…”

Hermione did not get the chance to finish her threat, because she felt strong arms close around her and pull her close. He bent slightly, and drew her closer. Instead of kissing her as she anticipated, he nuzzled his face into her hair. He breathed in deeply and she recognized from the way his body jerked against her that he was holding back a sob.

She pried her arm out from where it was trapped beneath his and softly stroked his cheek until he actually let the sob out and relaxed against her. Then she pulled back, guided his head, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his.

Whatever she had been expecting, this was not it. Ron’s kisses had been strong, sloppy with passion and urgency. Ron’s kisses had been thrilling and had made fireworks burst all about them. Snape’s kiss was… tender. It was not timid or hesitant, though. He kissed her back with meaning, purpose. He kissed her back in a way that let her know all she had heard him confess was most certainly the truth. His lips were gentle but reassuring, soft but unyielding. And when the one kiss was over, Hermione had time only to take a single breath before a second began. This kiss was just as beautiful, just as caring, though their lips parted slightly and Hermione was pressed so hard against his front she could feel his heart racing against her chest. A third, tiny kiss ended the session and they both instinctively pulled back.

“I’m afraid I cannot accept your resignation, unless you think you’ll have trouble working under me now.”

“I won’t know until I try.”

He kissed her again, and this time it felt so sweet, so affectionate, it almost didn’t feel as though it were really happening. Her head felt dizzy, high, floaty and her whole body tingled. She thought, maybe, she had caught Snape’s ailment and was right now upstairs by the couch, delirious and delusional, imagining this whole thing was happening. Perhaps she should have him perform a temperature spell on her. Perhaps she should have him pinch her to see if she would snap out of it. Perhaps…

Snape started laughing. “I can actually see it in your eyes when the gears in your head are spinning. I’ve always liked that about you. You might know a lot, but it’s beautiful when you’re being clever and figuring something out.” He gave her another quick kiss, and the feel of his laughing mouth against hers made her smile. “What are you thinking about this time? Will you tell me?”

She nodded automatically. “I’ll tell you anything.”


End file.
